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A narrative on an enraging experience
I didn't know where else to put this. It's not fiction, so I decided on non-fiction. But what it is is a recollection of something that happened to me yesterday. It's really short, and kinda pointless, but something I can sort of scratch my creative claws on.
It's about a friend who went bad.
"Ew, don't look at me! You're not even worthy of being looked at." I rolled my eyes and resumed my math work. How immature. Does she really think she can hurt me with this? She continued talking to the area at large - everyone except me. "She always wanted me to teach her how to throw a punch. Maybe now I should." There were some "Ooh"s from those listening, but I was still resolutely ignoring the presence beside me that was my ex-best friend. "But she'd probably call her mommy." I allowed myself a self-comforting laugh. "At least she'd care. My mom cut me off at the womb."
"Playing the pity card now?" I couldn't stop myself.
"Ooh yes, pity me, pity me, my parents hate me, I only have one arm, my dad is dead. ....Oh wait, that's you!"
The words replayed in my head, and a second later, my blood ran cold. That was below the belt. I would never stoop that low. Hatred pulsed through my veins like a poison, intoxicating me. My hand shook on the ruler I was using to graph a line.
"Look at her with the ruler, like she's going to throw it at me. I dare you, go ahead and try!" My blood reached boiling point. I could hear my pulse in my ears, like waves crashing on the shore, drowning out all other feeling. My body moved without my permission. I wheeled around and thrust the ruler in her face. Barely noting her expression of surprise, I strode out of the room and down the hall, fuming.
To clarify, with the "pity me" sentence, her parents probably don't hate her, and she broke her wrist, that's what's with the "one arm" thing. The last part was because my dad died two years ago.
And for the record, she's now trying to cover her ass by saying that before she made that comment about my dad, I said something to her about her friend who committed suicide.
1. I didn't KNOW she had a friend who committed suicide.
2. She DEFINITELY didn't mention that friend.
So yeah. Pretty fucking pissed.
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Shhh... this is my hidden message to make line breaks because I can't figure out how to do it.
Abstinence makes the church grow fondlers. 
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"Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us."
--Calvin
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